


Sogni del Passato

by heynevicare



Category: Merchant of Venice - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works, Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Gay, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mmmm, PTSD, Sexy Times, Shakespeare, Shakesqueer, Wet Dream, antonio theory, gay conspiracy, kinda w canon, really gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heynevicare/pseuds/heynevicare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antonio dreams of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sogni del Passato

**Author's Note:**

> So this falls into my theory that the Antonios are actually the same. Keep that in mind, dear reader.

They laid naked under the sheets, legs tangled and bodies close. Antonio's hands carded through Sebastian's thick blonde hair, the other snoring softly with his back to Antonio's chest. Their combined body heat was too much for the merchant's taste, but given the events just an hour before, he couldn't care less about the slight perspiration. Although, the heat didn't matter then. The only source of light the shadows of night allowed were the moonbeams that poured in the windows, cloaking the room in a silvery glow. Antonio pressed his lips against the blonde's shoulders, pulling him closer. He had been denied companionship for so long. He had been so lonely. But now, his love was in his arms. Sebastian was his, and he was Sebastian's. His eyelids grew heavy, and for the first time in a long time Antonio was able to fall asleep. 

\---

First came the desire. Then the heat. 

Lips found his, and he kissed back roughly. What a lucky dream this was... The other's hands worked to undo each button of Antonio's shirt efficiently enough to not pop the buttons off. Antonio returned the gesture. Light headed and overcome with want, they parted for air. But when Antonio drew back, it wasn't his Sebastian. No, this man had dark hair, black as the midnight sky. His tongue glided over his lips, mouth turning into a smirk at Antonio's apparent confusion. Bassanio? It had been so long since he had heard that name. Why? Antonio stepped back, only to have the action countered as Bassanio approached and shed his shirt. He placed a quick kiss on Antonio's lips before the brunette found a hand on his chest, pushing him to sit in a chair. Before he could even comprehend the situation, he felt leather tight against his skin. Bassanio had bound Antonio's wrists to the arms of the chair. 

Suddenly the dream transported him, still bound to the chair, to a courtroom. A memory. The day that the Jew was to claim a pound of his flesh. 

The tightening of his binds was a much different situation here. Here he had been given some kind of drug to distort his thoughts. All he could remember from the event–

"What is it?"

Antonio was back in the room, tied to a chair with Bassanio facing him. He looked up into the smaller's bright green eyes. Such sharp eyes, windows to his very soul. Bassanio's muscles were defined in the warm candlelight. How he wanted nothing more than to reach out and claim that body, feel every dip of muscle beneath his sea-calloused hands. But alas, he was unable to do so. He looked to the other with beckoning eyes. Bassanio's eyes now were glazed with lust, pupils wide with desire. 

Suddenly he saw those same eyes clouded with fear, tears threatening to fall. His mind was fuzzy, watching as Gratiano held the other back. Bassanio cried out, breaking away from the grasp to go to Antonio. Now his wrists were bound in leather, ankles tied to the legs of the chair as well. Some men were strapping his torso. Antonio's only goal was to say goodbye. This would be the end of him, of his story. Bassanio would return to Belmont and tell the others of the news. From there, he would move on with his life– and his new wife. 

He scolded himself. He new that Bassanio loved him. Why doubt it now? In his final moments, all he wanted were the memories of he and Bassanio to flood his mind. The brunette took Bassanio's hand in his own. 

Contact. The lord had now shed his pants as well and climbed onto Antonio's lap, straddling him. His hands ran down the tanned chest, and then back to take a fistful of dark brown hair and pull his head back to take his lips in a wet kiss. Antonio's eyes slipped shut, groaning against the other's mouth in frustration. He wanted to feel Bassanio's body. Another groan escaped his lips as the other ground his hips against the merchant's arousal. A mischievous smile graced Bassanio's mouth, kneading Antonio's bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away. He ground again. 

A different sound escaped his lips, this time one of utter distress. He and Bassanio had said their farewells, Antonio as melancholic as ever with the affirmation of Bassanio's devotion to him. The courtroom was silent, all but each step Shylock took to claim his pound, Antonio's grunts, and Bassanio's comforting reassurances through shaky breaths. Antonio had been gagged, though he couldn't be sure if it was for something to bite down on to distract from the pain or to keep him quiet. Probably both. Bassanio's hands were on the merchant's shoulders, gently massaging his upper back. His hands could do wonders, even now. Antonio's breathing became more steady. Still terrified, but Bassanio was right behind him, muttering words of reassurance. "It's fine, it's going to be alright. I'm here, I'm not leaving you, I'm here..." The glare of Shylock's blade caught the light. He could feel its cold edge against his chest, ready to pierce his flesh. A phantom gash that tore him apart...

Bassanio's nails grazed along Antonio's chest, leaving red marks that resembled that of some wild animal. The brunette shuddered under the gesture, the touch lingering though Bassanio's hands were now on his shoulders. Their breathing had become labored, the friction increased. Antonio considered himself a patient lover, respecting the wants of his partner– but oh, how Bassanio teased. Bassanio's hand trailed to cup Antonio's cheek, and placed a kiss to his lips before gliding his thumb over them. Antonio kissed his thumb before taking it in his mouth along with his index and middle fingers. His tongue danced over them, covering them with saliva for Bassanio's preparation. When he decided they were coated enough, he withdrew his fingers from Antonio's mouth. Antonio was frustrated at the sight. His lover preparing himself for sex, while he was denied the sense of touch when he could hear each gasp, see each fit of pleasure behind Bassanio's eyelids. The ebony-haired removed his fingers, and lined himself up with Antonio's erection. They both hissed at the contact, searing heat overtaking them both in body and mind. The brunette pulled at his binds again. Bassanio was moving now, heavy sighs falling from his lips until Antonio's thrusts made him moan. His name poured out of the other's mouth. "I want to feel you," he said, voice husky. How could Bassanio deny such a request when his lover's voice was laced with pleading and lust? He undid the binds as quickly as he could. Antonio's hands travelled up Bassanio's hips, settling at his waist. The lord's own arms wrapped around the merchant's neck. Antonio didn't even care that he could still feel the leather digging into his wrists. 

Antonio was still out of it when the lawyer ordered the binds to be undone. He hadn't even noticed the were being taken off until he felt Bassanio's frantic hands removing the leather and tear-stained face against his own, kissing his cheek. His wrists burned, his neck burned, his jaw was sore from teeth being clenched. But he could breathe again, no longer at the whim of the Jew, and safely in Bassanio's arms. Tears stung his eyes. He was free, for now. 

But he was not free. And he knew this, making love to Bassanio, they could never have each other again. They would return to Belmont, and what? Antonio would live amongst all his wedded friends, unable to be with the one he truly loves? Belmont was no place for a Venetian man anyway. 

His dream transported him to the day he left Belmont. The day he left Bassanio, his friends, his enemies, and his home. The gift from Portia would prove good use to him for his leave. He had written Bassanio a letter. Not even a minute after signing his name, Antonio fed the letter to the candle. He thought of Bassanio's eyes the day he left. They were full of understanding, confusion, and...love. Antonio would never forget those eyes. He couldn't if he tried. 

His dream shifted once more, to a storm on the sea. A body was floating in the ocean, tied to a mast. Antonio ordered his crew to fetch the being from the waves. When they had succeeded, he took the boy in his arms. Light hair, sparse freckles, salt-plagued body, and bright green eyes. 

\---

Antonio woke with a start, breathing rapid. Sebastian was sat up next to him, worry in his expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, tone full of concern. Antonio just stared at him. He didn't know what to say. Sebastian wrapped his arms around Antonio's shoulders in a hug, Antonio's around the blonde's waist. They held each other like this, in the silence of the night. Antonio's eyes were shut tight, nose buried in the soft blonde hair. "It's okay, I'm here," Sebastian hushed. "Antonio, whatever it was, it was just a dream." He couldn't tell Sebastian. Not now. Sebastian drew away, and running a hand through Antonio's thick dark locks pressed a kiss to his lips. He offered a smile so genuine it melted Antonio's heart. Sebastian was here. And he loved him. 

They laid back down, but this time Antonio did not hold the other close to him. It was one thing to have him now, but he knew he couldn't have him forever. He didn't want to have hope. Wanting never led to anything but hurt. But Sebastian, he was a necessity. Maybe that would be enough for Antonio to be able to keep him in his life.


End file.
